


Negotiation

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stair Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘And what if you come up here?’” Giriko tries to pick a fight and Justin negotiates a compromise, of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiation

“Hey.”

Giriko isn’t shouting, just projecting his voice so it echoes off the walls of the house. He doesn’t need to shout. He knows from past experience that Justin leaves his earphones out when he’s out of sight of the chainsaw so he can hear if Giriko yells, which means that if he’s not responding as he is right now Giriko is being ignored.

“Hey  _priest._ ” Still nothing. Giriko grimaces in frustration. He can’t see anything from his position at the bottom of the staircase to the second floor and he has no idea where Justin is. “ _Justin._ ”

There’s a pause. Then the sound of footsteps, shortly followed by Justin himself leaning into view over the top railing. “Giriko,” he offers, like he’s responding to a greeting. “Did you need something?”

“Come down here,” Giriko calls up. “What are you doing up there anyway?”

“Come up and find out.” Justin grins with the words. “You could try to distract me from it.”

Giriko smirks at the implication that it would be an attempt and not a sure thing, but then Justin starts to turn away and he calls out again. “Hey! No way I’m coming up there for nothing, you come down here.”

Justin pauses, and Giriko can see even with the priest’s back to him the way his shoulders draw tense. When he turns back around his smile is gone; there’s still amusement at the edge of his mouth but it’s not touching his eyes, now, and it’s at Giriko’s expense rather than a shared joke.

“Are you  _that_  lazy? Honestly? You want to pick a fight about who goes where?”

Giriko shows all of his teeth in what is ostensibly a smile. “Sounds a lot more fun than the alternative.”

The chainsaw can see Justin raise one eyebrow, even from the odd angle almost directly above him. “Do you think so?” The priest moves sideways, trailing his hand along the railing as he paces out the perimeter of the stairwell. “What exactly do you think is the alternative?”

Giriko shrugs and leans heavily on the railing at the base of the stairs. “You stay up there being boring and I stay down here getting myself off.”

“Hm.” Justin pauses in his pacing and steps back from the railing for a minute. Giriko can still see the shift of the priest just at the edge of his vision and stays where he is. After a moment Justin comes back into sight; his hands are full, and as he leans back out over the railing Giriko can’t quite see his face around the obstruction. “And what if you come up here?” He drops what he is holding; as it falls Giriko reaches out to grab it, and once its in his hands he recognizes it as Justin’s outer robes. He looks back up and Justin is leaning deliberately far over the railing, so for a breath Giriko worries the priest is going to fall over the edge. He’s grinning bright and Giriko can see the thin fabric of his white undershirt and the skin exposed by the loss of the robe.

The chainsaw raises his eyebrows and drops the fabric he’s holding at his feet. “If I keep stalling will you keep throwing your clothes at me?”

Justin pulls his cross-shaped amulet over his head and drops that too. Giriko snatches it out of the air and keep looking up hopefully. Justin is smiling, the expression so bright he actually looks his age for a moment.

“What else do I  _have_?” he half-wails, all mock concern. “Hm.” He tosses down two socks in quick succession; Giriko doesn’t try to catch them, just watches Justin’s face. He’s laughing himself, chuckling as he stares up at the blond. “I’m running out,” Justin observes as he looks down. “I mean I guess I’ve got my shirt still.” Giriko holds his hands out without speaking and Justin twists his shirt up over his head before dropping it over the railing. Giriko closes his hands on the fabric and tosses it to the side without looking away from the priest.

“What about your  _pants_?” Giriko shouts up. Justin leans back from the railing and for a minute Giriko thinks he means to walk away. Then the blond comes into view at the top of the staircase and steps down onto the topmost stair. He’s just got his black jeans on, now, and Giriko always forgets how  _tight_  those fit when they’re hidden underneath the stupid robes. Giriko can see the curve of the priest’s narrow hips through the fabric and the tight shift of skin over his chest and stomach, and the dark looks so  _good_  against the priest’s pale skin that Giriko almost thinks Justin looks better in just the pants than in nothing at all.

Justin has stopped on the top stair; from the angle of his hip he’s aware that Giriko is staring at him but he looks perfectly content to stay where he is indefinitely. He tips his head to the side and smiles.

“I’m not going to come all the way down on my own,” he says carefully. Giriko barks a laugh and swings himself around the bottom railing to set his foot on the bottom step. Justin extends a bare foot towards the next step and Giriko imitates him, moving up towards the landing as Justin comes down to meet him halfway. They make it nearly to the landing before Giriko reaches up through the railing to catch at Justin’s jeans. The priest leans sideway and smiles and reaches out to touch his fingers against Giriko’s hair.

“Come up,” he says.

Giriko growls and reaches through the railing with his other hand to pull Justin flat against the edge. “Take these off and I’ll meet you halfway.”

“And here I thought you’d want to take them off yourself.” Justin isn’t fighting back at all, but the railing is in the way and drastically offsetting Giriko’s mobility. The chainsaw growls again and steps sideways, letting go of the priest so he can reach over the railing instead of through it and close his fingers into a fist at the waistband of Justin’s jeans. The priest laughs and stumbles down another step so they are both nearly at the landing. Giriko brings his other hand around to pull the button of Justin’s jeans free, and when the priest laughs Giriko hisses and swings himself around the edge of the staircase to span the last few steps between them.

Justin falls back to sit on the stairs behind him and Giriko lands on the one below him on his knees, bringing his head in so fast he hits Justin’s shoulder with his nose before he can get his mouth against the priest’s skin where he wants it. The blond leans back so he’s almost laying across the stairs and reaches up to drag his fingers through Giriko’s hair. The chainsaw hisses in something between pleasure at the contact and irritation at the possessiveness but he’s got Justin’s pants open, and when he pulls at the waistband Justin lifts his hips and wiggles so Giriko can slide the fabric free.

He takes a moment to appreciate the angle of the blond over the staircase, the expanse of skin and muscle stretched tight from the careful balance over the wood of the stairs. It’s not particularly comfortable for Giriko either -- his weight is mostly on one knee, currently pressing hard into the edge of a stair, and he’s going to have bruises if he stays like this for very long, but it’s worth it for the way Justin is looking at him under his eyelashes.

“Isn’t this a better alternative?” he grins, coming down to exhale hot over the priest’s cock. Justin gasps and rocks up and when he speaks his voice is audibly strained.

“I think  _you_  met  _me_  after all.”

Giriko rolls his eyes. “Oh,  _fuck_  you,” he says, and closes his mouth around Justin’s cock. The priest whines and tries to rock his hips up but Giriko is ready for that and shoves back down to hold the blond in place. It’s hard enough to keep his teeth out of the way without the interference of Justin’s movement, and the priest’s usually remarkable self-control always evaporates with the contact of Giriko’s mouth around his cock. It’s one of the reasons Giriko likes blowing Justin, although he has no intention of ever explaining such to the priest directly. But when he usually has to fight for any crack in the blond’s facade, the instant gratification of Justin’s gasping inhales and the involuntary grasp of Justin’s fingers against his hair is almost painfully satisfying. When Giriko tightens his lips and sucks hard Justin makes a broken sound and curls in around the chainsaw in spite of Giriko’s pressure on his hips. Giriko laughs without moving his mouth and Justin gasps for air like the chainsaw’s hitting him and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Giriko has more skill at giving blowjobs than he thinks Justin has ever properly noticed, given how immediately incoherent the blond becomes at the touch of Giriko’s mouth. He still brings it to bear in this case, sliding his tongue hard over Justin’s cock to a responding wail, and as Justin arches up towards him as far as he can manage, Giriko lets the very edge of his teeth touch the sensitive skin. Justin sucks in an enormous breath of air, says “ _Giriko_ ,” like he’s giving a warning, and the chainsaw sucks again and that pushes Justin over the edge. Come spills hot and bitter over Giriko’s tongue but the priest is moaning like he can’t breathe or speak or think and the pleasure of the sound more than makes up for the taste.

When Giriko pulls back and lets Justin go to drag a hand over his mouth, the priest doesn’t move for a moment, just lies back over the stairs as if he’s spread out over the comfort of their bed. The chainsaw gives him a minute, takes advantage of Justin’s closed eyes to stare at the angle of the blond’s hip and shoulder, but then his patience runs out and he closes his hand around Justin’s shoulder.

“You planning on staying there long-term?” Giriko asks. “Not you don’t look pretty lying there, but --”

Justin laughs weakly and sits up. “Not my plan, no.” He comes forward as Giriko rocks back and they both go down the stairs to the landing proper. Justin is moving like he doesn’t quite have bones to close the distance between them, and Giriko shuffles back until his shoulders hit the wall of the stairwell before the priest closes his fingers on the front of Giriko’s pants. “Not my plan at  _all_.” He looks up, and his eyes are full of dark amusement. “You  _did_  meet me halfway, after all.”

Giriko tips his head back and laughs, and by the time he looks back down Justin’s got his hand around the chainsaw’s cock and is sliding it free from the constriction of his jeans. Giriko hums far back in his throat at just the casual contact, and Justin looks up with half-a-smile before coming in to take Giriko as far into his mouth as he can go.

The chainsaw groans in satisfaction, partially from the contact and partially because there’s nothing quite as pornographically appealing as Justin with his mouth full of cock and  _still_  an inch short of taking all of the chainsaw past his lips. Giriko rocks his hips forward just so he can hit the back of Justin’s throat and see the priest half-choke before he pushes back his reflex and gets a hand back up around the base of Giriko’s cock.

Giriko lets Justin suck him off for a few minutes, appreciating the view and the pleasure collecting under his skin at the friction, and then he brings a hand to rest gently on the top of the blond head. Justin glances up but doesn’t stop and doesn’t change what he’s doing, except to make a faint questioning noise at the very back of his throat that Giriko can feel vibrate up his own spine.

“You look  _good_  with your mouth full of cock,” he observes, and Justin’s lips try to twist into a smile and Giriko can feel him almost-laugh although the sound is interrupted. “I don’t know why you insist on doing anything else with your day when this is clearly what you were  _born_  to do.”

Justin maintains the presence of mind to roll his eyes in a stunning example of nonverbal communication, and Giriko starts to laugh. Then the priest lets his hand go to grab Giriko’s hips and hold him in place, and Giriko gets a breath of warning before Justin angles his head and takes the extra inch down into his throat.

Giriko’s head goes back to hit the wall and he groans, although it sounds more like a yell from the sharpness and the volume, and his hand pulls hard on Justin’s hair without meaning to. Justin pulls back anyway, entirely overcoming the pressure of Giriko’s hand like it’s not there at all, and when he doesn’t come back in Giriko looks down.

The priest is smiling but his eyes are hot, very nearly angry. “I can do a  _lot_  of things well,” he informs Giriko while the chainsaw hisses in frustration and pushes uselessly against his head. “Taunting someone who has your cock in his mouth is a spectacularly  _stupid_  idea.”

“I wasn’t  _taunting_  you, idiot,” Giriko growls. “It was a  _fucking_  compliment.”

Justin keeps staring at him for another moment. Then he blinks, and the anger is gone like it was never there.

“Well then,” he says, as if that resolves the issue, and he brings his mouth back in and that  _does_  resolve the issue by all of Giriko’s standards. The chainsaw loses track of what Justin is doing, exactly, with his tongue and his lips and his throat, but by the time he groans and bucks forward to come against the back of Justin’s tongue he’s willing to admit that whatever Justin might lack in experience he makes up for in natural talent.

It’s hard to keep on his feet as Justin lets his hold on the chainsaw’s hips go; he didn’t realize how much weight the priest was supporting until he stries to stand on his shaking knees and drops to the floor somewhat faster than he anticipated. But Justin laughs, and the amusement reaches his eyes this time, and when Giriko doesn’t move to get up the blond crawls in to fit his hips between Giriko’s legs and lean his bony shoulder into Giriko’s chest.

“Ow,” Giriko says, but it’s not much of a protest. He grabs Justin’s far shoulder and twists him bodily so the angle is less of a direct jab into his skin. “Better. You should eat more, you know.”

Justin rests his minimal weight into Giriko’s shoulder and leans in close enough that when he shuts his eyes Giriko can feel his eyelashes brush against his neck. “I’ve been told.”

Giriko hesitates, but Justin is right there, after all, and he appears to have no intention of moving, and it would be more comfortable if -- he reaches up to fit his arm around the blond’s skinny shoulderblades in a semblance of an embrace. Justin purrs against his shoulder, and leans in closer, and Giriko smiles where the priest can’t see his expression.


End file.
